


Widow's Peak

by darkrose921



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst?, F/F, Romance, humor probably
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-01
Updated: 2017-06-24
Packaged: 2018-09-14 00:08:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9148207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkrose921/pseuds/darkrose921
Summary: Takes place directly after the Infiltration vid. Widowmaker definitely knows what Sombra did during their mission and naturally, has to confront her about it.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! This is my first work that I'm actually sharing publicly and wow this is a lot harder than I thought. Anyways, I was inspired to start writing this when I came to the realization that there's a very disappointing lack of anything WidowSombra. And so here I thought I could fix that. I may or may not finish this? I mean I'll definitely try, but I'm trying to find the motivation to do ANYTHING nowadays. Regardless, if I do end up finishing this, it won't be more than five chapters long. Maybe around three or four. Please let me know what you think; I'm a very inexperienced writer and honestly don't even know if I'm any good. Enjoy this short little thing.

Sombra was used to being stared at; If her bright, violet locks and glowing cybernetic implants were any indication. It was all purposeful, of course, she _wanted_ to stand out. The outfit, the eyes, even her attitude was all a ruse for attention, and she reveled in it for the most part. However, aboard the claustrophobic intimacy of the ship, being followed by a pair of predatory, golden eyes wasn't exactly comforting.

And she did her best to ignore it; idly focusing on anything that could distract her from the scrutinizing glare. Half-wittily trying to seem perplexed with the leather material of her gloves, and alternatively, even attempting to derive a believable interest from the view outside the window. It's success lasted for little more than a couple of minutes, until she realized that all she could glimpse at was a bright, blinding shade of white. With flurries of snowflakes pounding on the frost-stained glass. It also made her realize how much she hated snow.

With a clearly aggravated sigh, Sombra craned her neck and conspicuously locked eyes with the woman responsible for her frustrations.

"Take a holovid, _amor_ , it'll last longer."

Sombra had anticipated a stronger reaction than that of a single blink. The comment was intended to evoke a reaction in her favor, yet it seemed apparent that Widowmaker had spitefully doubled in her efforts when she narrowed her stare and tightened her lavender-tinged lips.

 _Increíble_. With a complacent scoff, Sombra hauled herself up from the ship's embedded bench. "You know what, I don't have time for this. I have better things to--"

" _Excusez-moi_ , I have to ask: how exactly did the target escape?" Widowmaker interjected with a raised hand, and she kept it at bay when she added, "Call me curious."

A silence swept over the freshly surfacing tension between the two women. Glares lingered on one another, purple met yellow, wordlessly tempting and challenging with nothing but heated stares. A rousing turbulence suddenly possessed the otherwise stillness of the ship. Sombra found herself at a stumble, momentarily losing her balance. However, her grace was omnipresent even in moments normally associated with clumsiness. She gripped the medal rod jutting out of the nearest wall behind her with dexterous hands. Her magenta talons clinking against the frigid medal as they encircled it. Miraculously, she had maintained eye contact with Widowmaker the entire time, and even offered a smirk after her performance.

"Well, I think we may have miscalculated how prepared _Señora_ Volskaya was. Surprisingly, her guards had a well thought out escape route already planned," Sombra nonchalantly stated, as if she had the whole response formulated before the question was even asked. "So it would seem," she concluded with.

Widowmaker duly noted that Sombra was not easily unnerved, in all aspects, and much like herself, it would take dubious amounts of effort to break through the hacker's self-conditioned bravado. She was up to the challenge, of course, but it would take tedious skill. And who other than her could yield such mastery?

Widowmaker had no doubt of what she had witnessed through the scope of her sniper, guided by the infrared fixtures. Not once did she abandon the advantage of peering through her third eye; it was crucial, especially during a mission. Sombra may have implicitly surmised her plan of betrayal, but she was infantile in her belief that she could fool her superior counterpart. And she may have succeeded in deluding their third talon companion, for he seemed unaware of the reality of the situation, though Widowmaker assumed his delusions were fueled by the frustration of a mission failed. Gabriel let's his emotions get the better of him far too often. And because of that, she would need to expose Sombra's foolish antics unaided. _Challenge accepted_.

"Ah, but of course." Widowmaker nodded her understanding, but she did not believe even a lick of the lie Sombra had pitched. It was a decent attempt, she would admit. Especially since it was posed unexpectedly; the hacker had been prepared. It was expected however, because Sombra was notorious for her unequivocal talents at deception. It went hand in hand with her expertise in hacking. Widowmaker wasn't praising Sombra, no of course not, she was simply taking into account anything that could prove to be a threat.

And she considered, how flawless the hacker's execution had been. So calculated; she had never known someone to be so capable with the task of manipulation other than herself. When Widowmaker externally refocused her attention back to reality, the other woman was looking ahead, her expression devious and what one could only describe as tantalizing. These...feelings, were something Widowmaker couldn't quite fathom.

_Admiration? Fondness? Non. Of course not. These are merely placebos, I do not feel things._

Still though, it was difficult to tear her eyes away from Sombra's allure. What was it about her that forged an uncomfortable sense of intrigue; one that she couldn't find herself ignoring? Widowmaker found herself in the uncomfortable position of doubting her sanity. So when Sombra suddenly whipped her head and caught notice of the lingering stare, Widowmaker was quick to avert her gaze elsewhere. It was surprising, even to herself. She never shied away from anything, especially the challenge that came with staring intently back at someone.

Sombra noticed. And she would've called her out on it, maybe even teased her a little, but she decided not to press. Plus, there was something odd about the way the french woman stared at her, unsettling even. She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but it was enough of a concern for her to not want to resort to humor. Her face mirrored her inner contemplatives, brows knitting together and her nose scrunching up slightly.

They sat in a deafening silence for the remainder of the flight.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay! Here's the second chapter for you. It's longer than the first but not by much. It proved challenging to include dialogue that remained in-character; I really tried to make it sound believable. (Except for Reaper, I headcanon him as a melodramatic edgelord lmfao). I'm hoping you guys can enjoy it though! Let me know your thoughts and if I'm heading in the right direction. 
> 
> Also, I appreciate the feedback the few of you were so kind to leave for me! I send all my thanks and hugs. :,)

"C'mon Gabe, you're not mad at me, are you?"

Sombra tailgated Gabriel's path through Talon's headquarters, and occasionally would close the distance between them with a playful shove to his bicep. Though she didn't particularly look concerned with what his potential response could be; this was apparent with the way her voice wavered in pitch, similar to that of a whining child.

Widowmaker followed leisurely some few feet behind and studied Sombra's mannerisms intently. She attempted to maintain her focus without being distracted by the commotion ensuing all around her, though it began to prove impossible. Talon was never quiet, this she knew. Still, this fact did not dwindle the hatred and disgust she had for being there. Even more so at this moment when her perception of hearing was being corrupted by the pestering background noise.

Thankfully, Gabriel and Sombra had led their walk to an end by entering a secluded area at the base of the headquarters. Grand, sliding steel doors gradually shut behind Widowmaker as she entered the dimly lit room, drowning out the persisting clamor behind her. The clink of her heels could be heard now, with each inch of floor she claimed.

"I know you're not mad at me so just say, _something_ ," Sombra prodded again as her and Gabriel separated to opposite ends of the room. Her voice echoed and sent chills down the austere spine of Widow.

_Strange_ , she thought. She never felt cold. 

Widow's eyes followed Sombra, where she placed her equipment on a nearby weapon bench. Then to Gabriel, where he had stood, slouched over the center table--or so it appeared that way. Her full view of him was obstructed by the blue holographic interphase that emanated from the center of the surface. Instead, she assumed that his head was hunched over, arms outstretched to fist the edges of the table, _oh-so-dramatically_. He finally decided to speak.

"You miscalculated," he growled at Sombra's general direction.

That earned a reaction from Sombra. Her head quirked back and her features contorted in the most interesting way, almost as if she were going to laugh.

And she did. It was a mixture of both a scoff and a chuckle, one that clearly conveyed her disdain with Gabriel's claim.

"I, miscalculated? _Por favor_ , you and I both know that's not true." She shook her head in disbelief, it seemed as though she had been offended by the notion that she could possibly do something wrong.

Widowmaker had to stop the twitch of her lip that dared to project her amusement. But she allowed her brow to crane and held her tongue as she shifted her look at Gabriel yet again, anticipating his response.

The atmosphere was tense, and all of them could feel it. It weighed heavily on their persons, but evidently, Gabriel was the one to avow his inner vexations.

He grunted, a loud gravely one. One that voiced his frustration without the need of actually using his words. And in the moments that proceeded, silence swept over for mere seconds before Gabriel possessed the short-lived quietude and hauled his dual shotguns over and at the nearest wall.

Widow didn't stir until the guns crashed violently onto the floor. They left a dent on the wall, and a ringing in her ear. She rolled her eyes and sighed noisily. Shaking her head, she peered down at her own weapon still pressed loosely against her thighs.

"Gabriel, you don't need to throw a tantrum. There were no miscalculations, the mission was a failure and you need to accept it. Just don't let it happen again." Her words were cold and effective, eliciting a grunt of understanding from Reaper. Whether he actually took her remarks into consideration, she would never know.

Whatever the case may be, he seemed to calm down and relax his form a bit. He pushed away from the table and moped over to the pile of firearms he had created.

Sombra inquired mockingly, " _Uh_ , when have you ever cared about wasting a pair of your guns?"

Widowmaker had to agree. Gabriel always had a habit of carelessly abandoning empty shotguns, even though herself and Sombra would remind him that reloading was actually a thing. The two women watched as he scooped them up, regardless of Sombra's comment. Reaper stood there momentarily unyielding, weapons gripped in each stagnant hand, as if he were in contemplation. He finally turned his head, his signature skull mask shielded any indication of what he was thinking; It effectively aided in his dramatic flair.

"They still have a full round of shells," was his brusque reply. And like vapor, his form ghosted a black mist, legs no longer of mass. He hovered to the back exit of the room and vanished as the darkness there swept over him and engulfed his being. And then it was quiet again.

Though, the newly established silence here seemed artificial. For it wasn't a comfort as it should have felt to Widowmaker. Just a few moments ago, she had been agitated to no end by the loud voices and crowded halls of Talon, yet this quiet roused something she wasn't familiar with. She then realized, instantaneously, the answer to her doubt: Sombra's presence was still there.

Widowmaker reminded herself that anxiety and dread were few of the feelings she had been stripped of by Talon's force, yet the sensations in the pit of her stomach demanded otherwise. It was, annoying really, when she didn't know the answer to something. How dare Sombra dawn these confusing feelings upon her.

"What about you, spider? You mad at me too?"

When Widow directed her gaze at Sombra, she was met with a pouting face that concealed its deceit well. Her first instinct was to spit back a curt, _oui_ , for at that moment she did have a blossoming anger at Sombra. But not in the way she _should_. So instead, she decided to address the other elephant in the room. Surely doing so would deter her anger to something of valid significance, rather than her conflicting "feelings."

"Sombra," she began, the "r" in her name rolling off and mixing sweetly with Widow's heavy accent. "I am not as gullible as Gabriel."

Sombra was draped over a chair that she had claimed as her perch. Legs folded over another and dangling off the edge; her arm rested on a table, serving as leverage for the cheek pressed against it. She bared her teeth at Widowmaker, and it roused a sudden urge in the French woman: to smack that goofy smile off her smug little face.

"Oh?"

The hacker was well aware of Widow's astute disposition, and in fact, knew just where this conversation was headed. It would have been appropriate for her to experience a gnawing nervousness, yet she remained perfectly calm. Or so she kept telling herself.

And Widowmaker sensed this, but Sombra's seemingly carefree demeanor wouldn't discourage her from continuing.

"You let Katya Volskaya get away, unscathed. _Pourqoi_?" This was a genuine question she did not have the answer to. Yes, she did witness Sombra's interaction with the target, but one thing she could not know was what their conversation consisted of.

An unfazed Sombra pursed her lips and gestured with her head to the seat across from her, the edges of her ombré hair swaying along with the motion. Widowmaker understood the request, but had no intentions of sitting down. So instead she clicked her tongue disapprovingly and began to pace about, slow but purposeful. Whether it had been done spitefully, she would never tell.

"You cannot lie to me, Sombra. And it would do you best to skip the pleasantries, I am not your friend," she pointed out.

Quite frankly, Widowmaker couldn't even put a definition to that word. It was a foreign concept to her, it moreover felt like it lacked actual meaning. Then again, a "friend" meant you'd have to care about another individual; she did not care for anyone but herself.

And she would keep telling herself this lie until she actually believed it.

Sombra's eyes widened a fraction before she shook her head and snorted. " _Relajate, araña_. Okay, I'll be frank with you."

This was enough to halt Widow's footsteps and magnetize her piercing golden gaze at the hacker. She did not expect a willing confession.

"You saw what you saw, I won't deny that. You don't need to know the specifics, but I guess you could say I formed somewhat of an "alliance" with Volskaya. I need her for my own reasons," she paused, clinking her retractable nails against the smooth surface of the table. Her other hand cupped her chin, her fingers there molesting the flesh of her lips. "Talon is a formidable ally but hardly what I call a long term collaboration. Way too many strings attached." She looked up at a leering Widowmaker. "And so, you do what you want with that information, _amiga_."

A rakish smile and a wink accompanied the finishing remark, leaving a very indiscernible expression on Widow's normally stone-cold features. But just as quickly as it appeared, it was replaced with overt confusion. Widow could confess that she was impressed by Sombra's nerve.

"Do you think I will keep this a secret?" She blinked rapidly. "That I will not inform Gabriel? Inform Talon?"

Sombra shrugged. At this point she was too heavily invested in her mission, and it was going to take a hell of a lot more than a "tattletale" to unnerve her.

"Like I said, you do what you want." A dismissing hand was cast lazily at Widow, in which it was instinctively seized by Widow's own. She dropped her rifle in the process. She grasped the hacker's hand, tightly and fervently as if she wanted to illicit any pain she could. All of her own frustrations projecting into this small gesticulation.

"I am not some fly you can shoo away, _chérie_." She squeezed it for emphasis then released the death grip; the leather covering both of their hands squeaked upon the intrusion and the separation.

Sombra recoiled, not from fear or trepidation, but from genuine surprise. She gripped the hand and rubbed away some of the lingering sting.

"Damn, you're a lot stronger than you look," she confessed. "You made your point."

It dawned on Sombra that Widowmaker would be more useful as a "friend" rather than foe, and if at all she'd remain in ties with Talon, this would be it.

_Okay_ , she could play nice.

Widowmaker didn't flinch when Sombra leveled with her. Though "leveling" would be an overstatement. Sombra stood just about shoulder length in comparison, and Widow generously towered by a few inches. The difference wasn't colossal, however just enough for Widow to establish a sense of inward dominance.

"You are not wise to trust me, Sombra," she spoke clearly, but it came across atypically soft. "I have no incentive to keep this in confidence."

But this couldn't be further from the truth. She had gone into this "mission" unhindered by maddening sentiments, but now Sombra had altered the entire game. She was infuriating, and insufferable. Childish and delinquent. But...

she was  _lovely_.

And just as the pathetic conclusion reached her thoughts, she attempted to counter it with dosages of logic. _They told me I would never feel again, never cower, never cry. They told me, I would never **love** again... _

When Sombra brushed passed her, enough to startle her out of her captive thoughts, Widow could only stare blankly. Sombra made sure to lock eyes as she grazed by, stopping midway. She didn't acknowledge Widow's last remark.

"I'm gonna go check in on Gabe, make sure he's not crying or something," she chuckled, void of any real amusement. But the smirk that followed soon after, and the hand the that crept up under Widowmaker's chin didn't lack in its purpose.

"You know," Sombra mused aloud. "You're cute when you show emotions, _cariño_."

And with that she didn't linger for any reaction, she simply stroked the cold, cobalt skin in her grip then departed with a wink. She was gone before any _real_ damage could be done.

But all the damage _was_ done, and Widowmaker was left standing alone in its aftermath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter most probably will include NSFW-content. Nothing overly explicit, I'll keep it all tasteful. Wish me luck though, I've never written anything like that before ;o


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay! 10 years later and here's the third chapter! Nsfw content ahead so here's a disclaimer. Though it's really not too explicit and well, i guess you'll see what i mean when i say it "lacks." uhm i hope it's a good read, and i thank you from the bottom of my very gay heart if you do decide to take a gander at it. 
> 
> also, follow me on tumblr! url: adieu-amelie
> 
> thanks~
> 
> (also there's like weird spacing in between some words and idk why so) ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

 

 

Sombra did her research; she _ always_ did her research. When you know everything about the person you're advancing, then you hold _all_ the cards,  _all_ the powe r. This was what the hacker yearned and sought for since young, and she continued to follow this self-established code of ethics even still. To have the upper hand, you need to really  _know_ your target. And, did she  _know_   Widowmaker.

She knew that before allying yourself with anyone, you must make sure you're not getting yourself into anything you can't brusquely get out of. With Talon, it was simple. They didn't care about her past, who she was before becoming Sombra; and so they had no leverage over her. She could never be in a vulnerable place with them. On the other hand, she knew every bit of information, data, ever nook and cranny of Talon's corporation. The advantage of this was obvious: blackmail.

So with Widowmaker already belonging to Talon, Sombra (before their meeting face to face) knew a trifling amount of fact about her. Basics like appearance, age, ethnic origins, and other trivial type things. But the more significant information, the dirt, was found out just a few moments ago. It would've taken hours if done by a mediocre freelancer, but Sombra was the best, and she hacked through talon's databases like child's play. And she found what she needed, what she wanted.

But perhaps for the first time, what she found made her hesitate. 

She knew Talon was relentless, but what she did not figure was just how much. Nor could she fathom the extremity of their terrorism; it seemed brutal to say the least. To strip away an innocent woman, a wife, of the man originally labeled as their target. Amélie Lacroix didn't deserve her demise. What she was forced to become was a cold blooded murderer, with her husband being the apex victim. Amélie was now Widowmaker.

Sombra's formerly prodding hands stopped teetering at the holoboard as she surveyed the content on screen. Her eyes softened, hues of artificial light cast a haunting glow on brown skin as the interface flickered. If she hadn't been so desensitized to such violence from her prior gang days, she may have shed a tear or something like that. Instead, her mind played with the notion that this was something she could potentially use against the French woman.

So, she kept digging. She craved more knowledge, not for her obvious nefarious purposes, but for the insatiable curiosity that flourished with each bit of information she acquired.

Sombra was incontestably impressed with Widow's skills. She always thought that the spider was full of herself without a credited rationale, but after analyzing her statistics as a sniper...

" _!_ _Oye! ¿Puedes creer esto?_ "

She partially shouted to herself, the monitor, and the other (almost forgotten)presence in the room. Sombra was shaking her head incredulously, mouth gaping from her mirth.

"It's like she isn't human! Do you see this?  _Dios_ , look..."

She raised dual fingers to the screen, pinching and gliding them to touch then separate as she zoomed in on her new focus of interest.

" _..._ _Sniper executed assigned omnic target, midair,in a single shot, and straight through the cerebrum..._ "

Sombra continued reading aloud, but sometime during, her voice drifted off into nothing but excited, adrenaline-filled murmurs. 

Reaper had been half paying attention to Sombra's rambling, half preoccupied with his own research. But when Sombra's obnoxious voice piqued the brink of his patience, he swiveled on the seat supporting his weight and directed her immediately.

 "Are you done?" He spoke, his gravely voice emanating an unsettling echo against the surrounding walls. He stared intently at the overeager woman, though this had been redundant for his mask betrayed any type of portrayal of emotion.

Sombra, with her back facing Reaper's heated "stare", huffed her sudden aggravation.

"Oh,  _l_ _o siento_ , am I bothering you Gabe?" She threw a pout at him when she finally decided to meet that expressionless, unnerving skull mask.

If even he had been rolling his eyes, Sombra would have never known. He presented his reply with another statement.

"If you're finished screwing around, make yourself useful and do something that benefits our cause."

Their cause ? The question floated around her thoughts transiently. It occurred to Sombra that she wasn't even fully aware of what Talon's goal was. Terrorism was not a cause, it was a rooting construct-- so what did they want to accomplish? But perhaps this seemed irrelevant in pertinence to her ownmotives. Whatever the case may have been, Sombra disregarded the serious atmosphere Gabriel attempted to establish among them, like she usually did, and clicked her tongue.

"You're never any fun, Gabe," she ridiculed in that condescending timbre of hers.

At this point, Sombra was just waiting for him to drop everything and stomp away- his established solution to most situations that don't pan out in his favor. She wanted to get rid of him and teasing him, pushing all the right buttons, seemed to get the job done almost always. For the record though, Reaper wasn't exactly the toughest nut to crack.

She pressed more insistently, "I have an idea. How about you go and do what needs to be done for our "cause," and I'll stick to what I do best." She grinned and motioned to the holomonitor behind her, it still continued flickering and providing a faint source of light within the gloomy chamber of Talon. The seemingly eerie ambience aided in Sombra's maleficent disposition, as she sat crossed legged and unperplexed before an anxious Reaper.

He was standing now, and his mannerisms appeared flustered. He took a step forward, almost as if he were about to oppose to the suggestion--command, but the arm raised at Sombra, was quickly cast away to a fist at his side. 

"You better actually get some goddamn work done," he grumbled. And just as expected, he plodded over to the closest exit, but not before stopping at the door to loom briefly. Of course.

"If you see Widowmaker, tell her to come find me."

Sombra spun on her seat, and gave a flimsy, mock salute, " _ Sí señor _ ."

And with that he was gone. The room was still, and silent save for the white noise emitting from the lambent screen. She refocused her surveillance to the words still presented against the surface. As she idly looked at the content, she thought about Widowmaker, of how she remained the stoic, unfeeling individual she appeared to be. Sombra experienced a sick, uneasy feeling when the notion of "mind control" ghosted around in her head. Now again, Sombra would not consider herself a saint. She had killed people, she had taken lives without a second thought or feeling of remorse. But here, considering the possibility that Widowmaker wasn't in control of her own actions, the fact that she could be operating completely against her will didn't sit well with Sombra. Yet another reason not to get comfortable within Talon's ranks. 

She let the weight of her body collide with the back of the seat as she slumped into its embrace. A sigh slipped past her lips when she stared up at the ceiling for no particular reason. Sombra blinked, her expression flustered and unwavering. It might even have been described as a countenance of concern. Did she care about the French woman? She recalled no instances where this could be justified; Widow and her never really portrayed any predilections for one another, especially not as tender as the feelings she were experiencing right now.

Their dynamic was interesting, however. They made a good team, she could state confidently; they complimented one another in the regard of combat, strategy. A formidable ally indeed.

Or was there more to it? 

Was the reason for their compatibility because of some sort of attraction, of enthrallment?

_Attraction_. She was definitely  attracted to Widowmaker.  _Dios_ , that body of hers was marvelous, and her allure was simply unfathomable. Anybody with eyes could avow the fact.

But there was more to it. Something was embedded much deeper, that went past just physical captivation, lust.

Sombra sat up, leaning forward against the table, elbow and hand propping up her chin. 

"Figure this out, Sombra. You know  _everything_ , remember?" she whispered to herself, a mantra she quite often found herself using whenever in doubt.

She was in a state of concentration, her perception of time had slowed, and her awareness was only present inwardly to her disorderly thoughts. She had no way of acknowledging the steps that prowled in, or could have prepared for the rude awakening shortly after.

A sudden force knocked Sombra clean off her seat, she attempted to catch her balance with arms flailing about but to no avail. She hit the floor, long legs contorted uncomfortably, with a prominent thud. A few moments were needed to process the shift in situations as her eyes blinked hastily. She half hoisted herself up, only supporting her torso with extended arms. Still at the ground, she looked down at her legs then slowly panned up to where she had been sitting prior to the sneak attack.

There the culprit stood, both hands palming her hips, and golden eyes burning through the darkness.

"What the fuck,  _araña_ ?" Sombra rubbed her elbow after the adrenaline had died down, and only now did she feel the sharp pain that began to sting there. A response from widow, she expected, but the vagueness of said response had not been what anticipated.

 "How dare you? "

Sombra's lips puckered and her brows lowered in confusion. She shook her head in representation of her misunderstanding.

"You've got to be more specific," she joked. "I'm a very daring individ--"

"Stop talking."

Widowmaker breathed her indignation. A scorned expression was directed at Sombra as Widow peered down at her.

"Uh, you do realize you asked me a question. How do you expect me to respond if you don't want me to ta-"

Her words were abandoned once the situation abruptly shifted. In an instant, Widowmaker was upon her, prowling around the chair and purposely clutching, and hauling the curve of Sombra's flashy collar. At first she just lifted her to eye level, heated and blurred tawny orbs narrowing harshly into Sombra's own.

All the hacker could do was stifle a breath of hilarity. She angled her head and tried examining the grip Widow's firm, gloved hands had on her, but there was no possible way with how close in proximity widow's face was to hers. And so she just let hooded eyes trail a path over the porcelain face only inches away. She might've let her gaze wander at the grimacing feminine lips that seemed far too close to ignore.

"But I think you just adore when I talk," Sombra cooed, she even dared to lift a steady arm to caress the flowing cobalt mane resting peacefully on widow's tight shoulder.

Widow allowed the touch, if only so she could think. Her expression bled rage, yet internally she wasn't entirely there. Absent if anything, operating solely on instinct, the action her hands had adopted was proof enough.

And she considered, hadn't she always operated intuitively? Never think too much for risk of hesitancy. Or mistakes. You take the shot, and let nothing else deter you. Widowmaker always did just that, so this here, why should it be any different? She was angry, infuriated, confused and she couldn't understand how or why but there were some surfacing "pleasant" feelings dribbled in too. Though, for the first time in what felt like eternity, she didn't care. Or feel the need to care.

Sombra . She was right there, in her arms. A mere breath away from Widow. Cool, graceful hands released the wrinkled leather and slithered around the lithe jugular of the Mexican woman. Sombra's neck craned upwards instinctively, allowing Widowmaker more access.

She could end it all in a beat. Her inexplicable feelings were derived and centered around this one woman, and here she was. How vulnerable Sombra was for her, all she had to do was tighten her grip, dig her nails in deep and watch that smooth, caramel skin fade into the shade of death. And just like that, her worries, doubts,  frustrations would vanish. _ S_ _i simple_.

The taller woman applied more pressure to her hold in search of a reaction from Sombra. Some type of alarm is what she had expected, what she'd  _hoped_ , yet the only thing Sombra managed to reveal was rather unexpected. 

A lip bite.

What a foolish woman, not realizing a dangerous situation when presented to her. Widowmaker decided it was best not to stare at that gesture for too long, for the longer she looked, the more interested she became with it. So she shifted her attentions to the juncture of which her hands met fabric-covered flesh.  No hesitating.

_ N'hésitez pas. _

She went in for the kill.

Determined lips surged forward seizing Sombra's own, closing the remaining distance between them. Her taste was warmth and savory, tinged with an underlying sweetness Widowmaker couldn't recognize. But she didn't contemplate too much on the fact; she didn't think at all. She only acted, performing only by what her body desired. So her tongue pressed bluntly against the other woman's mouth, demanding entrance for further gratification. Sombra complied, a soft groan escaping her now parted lips. That unidentifiable sweetness intensified as Widow's icy tongue brushed against the surprisingly pliable tongue of the hacker. They kissed like this for a few more moments until the contact was broken as Sombra abruptly recoiled. She smiled.

 "Ah, I knew you'd come around," she quipped breathlessly. She licked her lips leisurely, and didn't seem perplexed in the slightest.

Widow despised when Sombra attempted to appear all-knowing, that nothing could baffle her. So Widow angled their bodies and slammed the other woman unapologetically against the wall behind them. 

"You know  nothing," Widow growled, her voice sounded coarse, infected. Unfamiliar to even her own ears.

"I  know, that you should kiss me again," Sombra stated without shame, as she patted her own purple-tinged lips with the tip of her finger, expectantly.

"Oh?" Widow murmured, barely audible. The question lacked any actual substance and she was already honing in closer to her target. Sombra's raised hand was snatched and pinned securely to the wall with the rest of her body. Sombra looked up to where her hand was caught and she wiggled it, testing Widow's hold on her. Her face twitched.

"Impressive," she noted as she cast her gaze back to her captor. 

"Well?" The impatient tone in her words was done purposeful, if only to coax out a reaction from the French woman. Sombra was always testing people's limits, it was something she thought was practical, beneficial,  and amusing.

But Widow didn't divulge in her desire, not this one anyway. She did lean forward again, unblinking. She was slow in her delivery this time, not hesitating, but tactful, cautious. Surely enough though, it was Sombra who couldn't wait the extra millisecond it would've taken had Widow continued the agonizing pace. Sombra crushed their lips for their second meeting and tongues found each other almost instantly. The meshing of flesh, saliva, even teeth was not at all unpleasant, Widow discovered.

So she savored the sensations, as inconspicuous as possible. She hummed her satisfaction, transferring light vibrations to the other woman's mouth.

Sombra liked that. Widowmaker could feel the effect it had from the lips that quirked upwards just in the slightest manner. She knew it was a smile. 

Affection was so out of her usual comfort zone, that went for any type. And here she was, engaging in said activity in the most intimate form. She almost questioned if this particular situation exceeded the demands of reality, but Widowmaker was granted a sanity check when Sombra brushed her lips away and licked the side of her face.

Eyes and brows squinted at the gesture, the dampness on her cheek grew chilled by the crisp air that hit it. Widow stared blankly, but Sombra didn't give her anymore time to dwell on it. She lapped at her skin again, this time with intentions of traveling down the column of her throat. Sombra dug fuchsia talons into the underside of widow's jaw as she positioned her head away for more licking room. This was when Widow realized she had idly removed her hold on Sombra's hand, allowing the Mexican woman free rein of this dance.

Oh but she did not continue to allow it once the act registered fully.  _Comment oser_. Widow ripped away from Sombra's grasp and reaffirmed her " questionable" dominance by pushing hard at her with her body, securing the hacker against the wall once more. She dragged Sombra's arms apart, laying them flat against the supporting surface in a horizontal line. Her hold on them was not gentle. 

"Do you think you are clever?" Widow shook her head. She did not know if that question was directed at this specific act of defiance, or if some lingering animosity for the woman in her hold had accidentally slipped out from her thoughts. Either way, it was a viable query.

Sombra blew away the lone chunk of hair that etched its way onto her face, obstructing her view. Probably for the third time that night, did those intense eyes trap her in place (more so than she already physically was). Even though being in this predicament would have forced any other individual into submission, Sombra had to laugh. She  knew Widowmaker, and she  knew that since she had to assert herself this vigorously, this desperately, that it was because she was scared. And for this reason, Sombra cradled the power.

"Clever?" Sombra pretended to think about it. But it wasn't even a question she had to consider, not really. She was born to be astute.

 

"Do spiders weave webs?"

Widow's hand jolted and latched onto Sombra's jaw, similar to how it had been done to her only moments before.

Crescent shape dents appeared as Widow sunk her nails into delicate flesh. Her eyes administered even more stimulation as they bore imaginary wounds into Sombra's skin from their scrutinizing glare. Widow's face gave the subtlest flinch when Sombra's cheeks willingly dug further into the brutal grip as she simpered.

"What is this?" Widow hissed. Her expression seemed almost pained as sharp, alert eyes searched Sombra's face for a clue, an  explanation. She felt it again. The emotions seeking solace, attempting to surface against all attempt of suppression.

Widow pulled harshly at Sombra's chin, effectively yanking her as close as can be, their faces only mere centimeters from touching.

Her heart. Her cold, unbeating heart thumped erratically and felt as though it was lodged in her esophagus rather than its correct anatomical placement behind her ribs. 

Her breathing. Widow could not remember the last time something proved out of her control, yet in this moment, she couldn't seem to catch a steady breath. It was maddening, all of these sensations; they were overwhelming. And if it wasn't already cruel enough, the cheeky grin plastered onto the face of the woman responsible sent Widowmaker over the edge. White, hot fury bled through her eyes as she avowed her wrath. 

"What are you doing to me? I... _despise __you._ _You... you are filth,_ " she snarled. 

Sombra's lower lip pursed from the vague accusation. The insult too.

"Maybe you're not as emotionless as you claim to be,  _amor_." Both women did not expect the sincerity of the statement and it left them staring at one another for what felt like too long the moment it commenced.

"Don't think about it," Sombra challenged. She didn't want Widow distracted, not now. She wanted to take the next step, she was getting antsy with just the smooching.When her comments were met with silence, Sombra persisted.

  _"Araña _ , listen to me. Don't think. Don't feel," she insisted, voice surprisingly soft yet effective. She managed to feather away her arms from Widow's now flimsy grasp, and she made use of her new bound freedom by firmly cupping the face before them. Widowmaker's head had hung low before Sombra palmed the edges of her jaw and cheeks and lifted them to face her. As out of character it may have seemed, Widowmaker shied away from the touch, the glare. She turned her head to the right, to the darkness most prominent in the furthest reach of the room, and leaned into Sombra's hand. Widow clicked her tongue, an expression so indiscernible it left Sombra baffled.

Still, the hacker offered comfort with a stroke of her metallic thumb, but as soon as it was initiated it was quickly forgotten about; Widow clashed their lips hard, enough to bruise. She was soon frustrated by the layer of thick clothing rubbing against the spandex of her catsuit, making it difficult to fully press herself into the other woman. She grunted into Sombra's mouth as she blindly made work of her clothing, attempting to unzip where she felt zippers and even trying to tear when she failed.

Sombra, noticing this, chuckled as she momentarily pulled away from Widow's cool lips. She unbuckled, unzipped, and shimmied off the layers of bulk with ease, all while keeping her eyes on the flustered French woman.

The upper half of Sombra's body was now left bare before the seemingly hungry eyes of Widowmaker, save for a very tasteful brassiere, she confessed.

Sombra was a beautiful woman, no denying that, but Widowmaker would've never avowed the fact, had she been thinking clearly.

 "S _ i jolie _ _..._ " she blurted, barely a whisper. 

Sombra quirked a brow, a disgusting grin smeared on her face.

 "Would you like to do the honors, or shall I?" 

At first, Widow didn't register the words; she had been in some sort of fleeting trance as her gaze lingered on Sombra's semi exposed chest, but her eyes soon got distracted by the arms and hands that appeared in her line of sight. They played with the supporting straps of the garment, and Widow finally discerned the question's intention.

She nodded, even though it hadn't been a "yes or no" question, and encircled her own arms around Sombra's torso. It almost felt like a hug, and in the moments it took for widow's lithe fingers to unclasp the bra, she breathed in Sombra's scent. She could make sense of this one, it was something like rose and fine wine and incontestably alluring, to say the least.

 The bra finally collapsed in her hands, and Widow's eyes immediately flickered down to drink in the sight. The subtle rays of artificial light deriving behind them hit Sombra's soft curves, emphasizing every smooth inch of her brown skin. Her hands ached to feel it.

So she let the useless garment slip out of her grasp with a flimsy toss of her hand. It landed somewhere in the distance with an airy thud, but it was paid no mind. 

Widow raked her nails from the lower half of Sombra's toned stomach, all the way up to where they craved most. But instead of immediately filling the emptiness in her hands, she tentatively traced each hardened nipple with her fingers.

Sombra was loving the attention, but she was getting impatient. And though she would never admit this, she didn't like being put under scrutiny. Like she were a test subject under the attentive gaze of a doctor. It made her feel susceptible and uneasy. So she sped up the foreplay, if only to get to the most anticipated part of it all.

"Will you kiss them instead?"

Sombra angled her head, staring expectantly at widow through hooded eyes. She latched onto widow's shoulders with both hands and urged her forward, but did not force the contact she really wanted.

Widow dipped her head, without words or defiance. Her mouth, her cold cold lips, wrapped around sensitive flesh. And she sucked, deliberate in her intensity, forcibly coaxing out little mewls from the recipient of the attention. Sombra saw no reason to suppress her enjoyment, her soft moans and sharp breaths were unhindered as Widow continued.

Widow found that with each little sound she managed to draw out from the other woman only increased her desire to hear them more. It was music to her ears.

And so, she wondered, would Sombra continue to make these melodies if she focused her attention on other places. Desperate for an answer, Widow ran her hands down the rapidly rising abdomen of the longing woman beneath them. She stopped when her fingers met the seam of skin tight pants.

"Look at you," she whispered, her mouth leveled with Sombra's ear. "So eager for it. So,  impatient."

Sombra fought off the urge to shiver, widow's breath so close and husky;lips barely brushing over the cartilage there. And her accent,  God her accent,  she would listen to it all day if she could. If it weren't for the wall, and Widow's body keeping her in place, her knees surely would have buckled. But the torment didn't stop there.

"On the field, you are always so impulsive, reckless. You operate as if you are unbreakable. You think that you are above everyone, above  _me_ _?_ "

Widow was unmerciful. She abruptly slithered into Sombra's leggings, but did not make the final descent into the dainty undergarment that awaited. Instead she pressed down with three fingers, where Sombra's most sensitive area lay. Obstructed by the underwear it was, but still effectual as Widow had anticipated. Sombra practically bucked into her palm, putty in her hands.

"O-other - _ oh _ -...people aren't like me," Sombra spit out, when her words were no longer lodged in her throat. She was relentless in her effort to retain her wavering composure.

And that devilish grin, and those probing fingers didn't go away; they only increased with each passing moment. Widow alternated her movements between harsh presses and rubbing in circles now. Sombra tried speaking again.

"There's no one like me, even you... you are aware of this," she panted between words. "The fact that you're here, with  me, not someone else, only proves my po-"

Widow didn't let Sombra finish her self-indulgent remark, she swiftly slipped under the garment and sunk two fingers, knuckle deep, into the waiting heat.

Sombra choked on her words and gasped instead, the sudden unexpected intrusion stung for a bit, and she sucked in a sharp breath. 

But then the fingers started moving.

Widow didn't give Sombra any time to catch up, she had already established a rapid pace. Her hand delivered forceful, almost painful thrusts and still somehow managed to move in and out so quickly. And quickly was an understatement, but Sombra didn't have it in her to dwell on it too much. Pressure was building up faster than she could think, and it felt so blissful.

Each plunge of her fingers went so deep inside her, it left Sombra a mess of whimpers. So wanton in their delivery that they caught Widow's attention. Her fingers slowed but did stop entirely.

"Not so talkative now. Have you nothing clever to say?"

Every few words was accompanied by a hard jerk of her fingers.

"Or is  this all it takes for you to shut your mouth?"

Widow was playing the role she knew Sombra appreciated, however it did not mean she wasn't enjoying it either. Sombra was warm and pliable in her hands, and so so  _ wet_ . Her palm was soaked, and it made it all the more easy to pump into her with vigor.

Widow hadn't noticed at first, for she was too occupied with her hand movements taking place in Sombra's trousers, but somewhere during the ministrations Sombra had shut her eyes tight. The hold she had on widow's shoulders was ardent and these were all tell tale signs of her impending climax.

So, naturally, Widow ceased all movements that would get Sombra there. But she kept her fingers lodged inside her even still.

"Wh- what? Uhm... _mierde_ , why? Don't stop, god. Please don't stop." Sombra's eyes flashed open and her face wore shades of panic. Her voice trembled and she squeezed the latex material in her her grasp so tight she thought her nails would tear right through it. But it didn't matter because she needed to finish, and she would have tried anything to reinitiate it.

"Finish what you started, _araña_. For fucks sake, don't be so cruel," Sombra pleaded.  

Widow brought her free hand that was pressed against the wall for support down to caress the side of Sombra's face.

She almost gasped at how hot the skin was; it was fever-like.

She didn't bother questioning the sudden desire to mimic such a tender act and so she still continued to pet the burning skin. 

"I intend to," Widow breathed. "However there is something I need from you, first."

 Heavy breathing bore into the silence that followed Widow's words. And it was all Sombra could do in these moments. She was on the verge of passing out, maybe even dropping dead entirely. She ached around widow's dormant fingers as they continued to stretch out her inner walls without actually feeding her what she so desperately needed. What was even worse was that she could feel herself dripping, assumedly pooling onto Widow's palm and her own underwear.

So when Sombra finally registered Widow's request, she nodded her compliance with a hushed " okay " that barely seeped past her lips.

"Do you..." widow's words trailed off, and she scorned her lips for a second.

Sombra had never seen her so uncertain before and that's when her heartbeat started to pick up and a sick sensation spun around the pit of her stomach.

"Why me?"

And it went deathly silent. Widowmaker didn't let her eyes derail in their focus, she stared at Sombra expectant of a response. But Sombra forgot how to speak, how to think. A dumbfounded expression was all she offered, her eyes wide and mouth subtly mimicking the same gesture.

Why her? Well fuck, if she knew that answer for herself everything would've been a lot simpler. Her brows lowered, almost in contact with her eyelids as she was finally able to think again. But  wait, she didn't want to think about that, it was too distracting, too mind consuming.

" _Mierda _ _-,_ shit, I told you not to think."

Widow scowled, "And I asked you a question."

"Okay? I don't know... I could ask you the same thing," she quipped.

"Why are we here right now? Why do you have your hands down my pants when just a day ago we were at each other's necks?"

It seemed Widow was not the only one with such doubts. And the fact that Sombra was just as confused and unaware of what was happening perhaps aided in Widow's own irresolutions.

"There are a million and one questions as to why this doesn't make sense or why it's even happening in the first place but..."

Sombra's eyes wandered downward, to where they were still fused. She swallowed hard.

"But it's happening, and god I want it to continue. So,  _ por favor _ , move your fingers again. 

It wasn't the answer Widow wanted, or what she had anticipated, but Sombra was right. Questions and doubts unnecessarily complicates situations that sometimes don't even need explanation. If time allowed, they could discuss their frantic thoughts after  this, but right now there was no use for it. 

She finally soothed the ache in her arm as she began again working her fingers through Sombra's heat.

Sombra groaned a thankful groan as she was finally able to relax and release all of the pent up tension.

When she finally came, there was no holding back. The world came crashing down in between her legs, and stars exploded behind her shut eyes. She felt transcendent, her orgasm stealing the few shaky breaths she had left.

Sombra wasn't ready to fall down from her high yet.

"Just like that,  _cherie_ _,_ give me all you have to offer." Widow extended the tab of her thumb and flattened it out on Sombra's clit. "I know you can give me more than that." She coaxed out more of Sombra's orgasm, if only to extend it for a few more blissful seconds.

" _Okayokayokay,_ " Sombra whined breathlessly, her voice high pitched now that the pleasure of sex was replaced by super-sensitivity and borderline pain.

"Mmm... enough, I'm--, " Sombra clicked her tongue and abandoned her voice, instead just settling for physically removing Widow's probing hands from out of her underpants. 

"Done already?" Widow tilted her head wordlessly challenging her claim. 

"Yes, for now. It was so good though, I'm fucking numb." Sombra ran the flat of her hand down her stomach and over the sensitive flesh further down, a satisfied grin on her face. 

She leaned into Widowmaker, who had stepped back, just observing Sombra's body movements, her reactions. She draped her arms around the taller woman's frame.

Amelie... _asi me gusta,_ " she growled into the hollow of Widow's ear.

An abrupt recoil was Widow's response to the unfamiliar sound of her former name. It sounded alien, but even still, formulated a sense of nostalgia, bitter and distasteful. Hints of memories that didn't feel like her own clouded her mind for a few moments.

Regretting the ruse, Sombra felt alarmed, it was difficult to admit but she didn't want this to end. So, with all of her dignity, she would concede that she went a bit too far. She surged forward, gripping the tight, protruding jaw in front of her and peppered soft kisses onto the corners of blue lips. An apology, for having crossed their unspoken boundary.

Widow remained still, eyes staring blankly passed Sombra at nothing in particular (the wall, maybe). She understood the gesture, the sentiment, but she did not care for it. Delicate and sweet ministrations such as these were reserved for children, and she was almost disgusted by it. The only reason she wouldn't title herself as fully agitated by the gesture was due to the odd lulling sensation it seemed to be giving her. 

Regardless, Widow swatted the Spanish woman away and decided to teach her the proper way to apologize for something. She captured parted lips between her own, focusing on the plump lower bit. She dug her teeth into innocent flesh, and tugged it back just enough to elicit a yelp from her victim.

The faint taste of metal on her wet tongue forced a satisfied smirk to creep up on her frigid face. Widowmaker watched as the hacker lifted a naked hand to the source of the blood.

"Fuck ," Sombra murmured incredulously.

But the look of surprise didn't last long before it was replaced by the most lecherous gaze Widow had ever witnessed. Before she could properly react--or prepare for that matter-- she found herself being forcibly seized and spun around face first into the gelid wall behind them. The fact that she could actually feel the cold, harsh surface pierce her impossibly heated skin was troubling, for as she told herself countless times: she was never supposed to feel the cold. Though it was only an added feat to the already established list of things that weren't supposed to happen that did that night. 

Her cheek stung upon impact and she suddenly became aware of her hands being held in place behind the small of her back, by Sombra's own. Her first instinct was to resist, it was insulting how this woman, this  _dégénéré_ , had the nerve to attempt a stunt like this. 

But her efforts to escape were short lived when her captor molded her body flush against her own. Sombra's mouth sought out and zeroed in on the junction between Widow's face and ear. Her tongue slithered out and mercilessly pressed and licked a path all the way down to Widow's neck. However, Sombra had other plans. Abandoning her jugular, she detached her mouth and hovered over a single ear, her breath sending an unwanted shiver coursing through Widow's body.

"Feisty are we?" Sombra mocked in a hushed, husky tone.

Widowmaker actively contemplated if Sombra was suicidal, she must have been, for all of this was a cry to get murdered. Widow grunted, another feeble attempt at breaking away from this position. If they were going to continue whatever  this was, she most certainly was not going to relinquish herself to the submissive party. 

"You have a death wish, _mon cherie,_ " she countered through gritted teeth. 

"Oh, aren't you pleasant," Sombra chuckled.

Widow craned her head-- as much as she was able through her limited mobility-- and eyed the other woman, she stared a moment too long into those purple orbs and almost lost incentive to respond. 

"Let me go," she callously demanded.

Unhindered, Sombra exhaled a laugh and shook her head. She had considered letting her go, but this leverage over the domineering, cold-hearted French woman was just too satisfying and ego-boosting. But, as much as it satisfied her, to see high and untouchable Widowmaker bending beneath her will, there was also something else. Something that told her that the woman in her hold, needed this. A tortured soul deprived of tender attentions. She needed to let go.

" _Escucha_ , I know you're used to leading the dance  _querida_ , but just this once, let me take care of you."

Widowmaker thought about it, then didn't think about it at all. She would... allow this. If only it meant that she didn't have to think anymore, she could just let go and be used; so she did just that. She shut her eyes and succumbed to Sombra's will. She stopped resisting entirely.

Sombra literally felt the muscles in the woman's wound up body relax, and she heard a deep exhale of breath against the wall. She was expecting more of a challenge to get Widowmaker to trust her enough for this to happen, but here she was: face first, and slack waiting for whatever it was Sombra decided to do to her.

There was a pause before Sombra ran her hands down and over every curve of Widow's body she could find. She almost didn't notice the way the French woman's hand dug painfully into the wall, chipping the already flimsy paint that coated it.

"Mm, you like this?" Sombra coaxed once she made work of the ample curve of Widow's backside.

She ran her hands over and under until she decided to give it a squeeze.

The gasp against the wall was immediate, its melody restrained yet desperate. It was a beautiful sound, and Sombra reflected on the fact that she wanted to hear it again. 

So she grabbed her ass a second time, harder and with more confidence. Her talons digging into the violet latex as she persisted in her grip. 

Sombra molded her chest against widow's back as she leaned closer.

"Feels nice to get attention, doesn't it?"

She dared to move further down, her hands slithering along the downward plunge to Widow's legs.

"Especially if..." Sombra trailed down toned thighs, kneading and teasing the flesh there.

"the attention is..." upwards now, her palms creating heat from the friction as she just about zeroed in on her desired destination.

"...right here." Two fingers swept a path over the juncture between Widow's legs.

A low growl emanated from somewhere inside Widow's throat. "You smug little..."

"... _merde_ _,_ " she cursed under her stuttering breath. 

Sombra laughed to herself and felt the sudden urge to claim the other woman's lips. So she grabbed Widowmaker's shoulders without delay and slammed her back against the wall once their faces met. 

Sombra couldn't stifle the moan that escaped her lips once soft flesh met her mouth. This was so different for her, and it was...nice. 

Sombra had done,  _this_ , more times than she'd like to admit. One night stands never exceeded their notorious intentions, a quick fuck and that's it. Most of the time she never even kissed her lovers. But as she molded eager lips over and over again against Widow's own, Sombra realized she didn't want this to be a single occurrence. Every moment, every sound, every taste sent jolts of something electrifying soaring through her bones. It wasn't like everybody else she'd slept with, and she didn't want it to be. This woman was something else, and Sombra finally accepted the reality of it all: she was falling for Widowmaker. 

Sombra now wanted nothing more than to take her, to plunge into the waiting heat and fuck her until she was a trembling mess. To claim her, to have her; it was primal and animalistic but the urge was there. She needed to remedy the tender thoughts that wished for _love._ And that's what it was, a scary thought but undeniable as it was.  

On the receiving end, Widow was getting wound up, her release teetering on the edge, pulsating between her legs; aching for touch. She never wanted to be put under this spell, the one that left its victims so desperate for affection and so disgustingly shameful. But the more she drank in Sombra, the more she got swept under it. She kissed her like she was starved, deprived of everything and Sombra was her solace. She found herself wanting more because Sombra's lips were so incredibly soft and felt like they were crafted just to be intertwined with her own. Tenderness became her only desire as their kissing drifted languid in nature. Their breathing became synced and Widow even went so far as to tangle her hands into the side swept ombré hair that she knew was swaying so close to her. Her eyes were still unopened, her senses heightened in the darkness intrinsically, so this only furthered the sensations of being touched and lusted for. The ache of her core was now unbearable, she needed her demise, the sweet death.

Against Sombra's lips she spoke, low and needy, " _ Fais moi venir_ _._ "

French resembled Spanish enough to provide Sombra with the bare minimum of interpretation. But before she would deliver what was asked, she wanted to savor this kiss, for it could've been their last. And a thought presented itself, that this may have been the first time Sombra could not predict was was to come forth. 

Widow finally allowed her eyes to flutter open. The first thing she saw was how close Sombra was to her, the proximity accentuating her features and every detail of her face. Even the creases in between Sombra's eyes as the kiss grew more passionate. Their heads titled accordingly, as tongues stroked and welcomed one another. Widow didn't know what possessed her, but something lured her gaze to the holographic screen in the distance. Had her eyes been the normal human object of limited sight, she wouldn't have seen what exactly coated the blue interface. Had she not been anatomically altered by Talon in more ways than one, she wouldn't have been able to perfectly read what was her name plastered on the holomonitor.

And just like that, her mind switched off. The evocative situation no longer sanctioned her thoughts and feelings, but instead displaced by rage. She tore her lips away, unhindered by the loss of heat, and pushed past Sombra's dismayed being.

Sombra couldn't register the abrupt cessation of what was just pure contentment, a celestial moment. But when Widow stomped over to what was on the computer, she felt her heart plummet into the depths of hell.

"Fuck-- wait!" 

But it was too late. Widow was now face to face with her entire dossier, that was supposed to be untouched, unattainable and definitely not in the possession of Sombra. 

"You... were spying on me?"

 

Sombra's throat almost caved in, but she somehow managed to choke out her response 

_"Araña_ , it's not what you think."

As she read to herself, Widowmaker landed upon the name "Amelie Lacroix." And surrounding it was her entire past life and everything Amelie had ever done. The one thing that protruded from the rest of the information was the gruesome murder of her husband. Of Amelie's husband. Gerard.

Memories of the hush of night, tranquility, hostility, blood, screams, and nothingness flooded her systems. The sudden rush of remembrance invaded and immobilized her; it was overwhelming. Feelings of anguish and love meshed uncomfortably and distastefully and Widowmaker felt her heart clench. And it quickened, her heartbeat, thumping painfully beside struggling lungs. Breathing became grueling, almost impossible, and for some reason she felt afraid. Afraid because she didn't know what was happening, scared because for the first time in a while, she didn't want to die. Something to live for was presented to her in the form of an individual.

But the woman in question had literally just broken her heart. Widow cast a menacing stare at Sombra who stood a few feet away, just staring. Her expression was apologetic and regretful.

"I trusted you."

Sombra winced at the affirmation, she had known this unquestionably. Even if it had only been a morsel of faith put into her, Widow had placed some credence into their "relationship", a rare circumstance for Widow seldom entrusted any soul. 

"I know, I know..." Sombra fumbled over her words, unsure of how to proceed.

"This is kind of what I do, I find out things..." the truth deemed the most appropriate explanation in this situation. Sombra shimmied on the clothes dangling at her waist once the reality of being exposed caught up to her; the gnawing feeling of guilt played a role too.

Widow listened but she didn't accept that. It wasn't good enough, and she made that clear. "You could have asked and I would have told you what  I _wanted_ you to know."

Sombra noticed the way widow's voice shifted during her verbalization. It began confident, angry and firm, but winded down into a shaky and strained sound. Sombra felt that in her gut, and she felt the regret, the stupidity crash down hard onto her head.

Sombra considered an apology through physicality, a hug, a kiss even. But she knew, that would have been the worst thing at this point, Widow was volatile and fragile in this moment. So she refrained. 

"I'm sorry," she said.

Widow clutched at the edges of the desk, painfully hard but she couldn't feel it even if she tried. It was as if she could only feel everything internally, all of those sensations not able to project on the outside. That didn't stop the fluid that oozed out from her eyes. Nor did it prevent the outburst that followed 

"I was foolish to believe I could ever trust you." Her words bled through the temporary silence, and wounded an already remorseful Sombra. 

Widowmaker chuckled through her tears. "This is always how emotions leave you."

"A pathetic mess of feelings and self pity."

Sombra couldn't find it in herself to respond, so she just stood and listened. Listened to what surely would be their last conversation together. Seeing Widowmaker this broken left a feeling like dread. Sombra felt sick to her stomach.

"The last person I trusted was _Ger-_ "

And Widowmaker couldn't say his name, couldn't finish speaking. She almost screamed, but she composed herself enough to only release a grunt in its wake. She looked away from Sombra, the water in her eyes poured like lava, hot and burning down her cheeks. She straightened up, and took two steps towards the exit. She halted, arms cast straight and obedient by her sides. Clenched fists trembled from exertion. Her mind dizzied and clouded, attempting to correct the disarray of thoughts and emotions. She turned her cheek to face Sombra.

"Leave whatever it is you want from me here. Once I step out of this room, do not come after me. And if you so choose to ignore this demand, I will not hesitate to kill you, Sombra."

Her cold voice, the one absent all night, had returned once again and demanded vengeance. It staked its claim immediately, coating Widow's words selfishly and protectively. 

Sombra didn't say a word, what could she have said? Should she have begged? Pleaded mercilessly for her forgiveness, for her to give her another chance, to prove her faithfulness once more? No. It was over, this was the last she would ever see Widow again. Unless of course she refused to heed the warning, and sought after her. Getting murdered didn't seem all that unwelcome at this point. 

Sombra watched wordlessly as Widow left swiftly without another thing said. And she listened until the clink of heels receded, until it was quiet. Sombra breathed, and blinked, and didn't think. She just stood there existing, wishing she wasn't. She felt empty, like Widow had departed but took her heart with her. Her eyes scanned the depressing room, the dearth of real light a perfect analogy for Sombra's context. And of course, her eyes landed on the ambience of the holoscreen. She cursed at it, at herself, at everything. Then she realized something.

She really loved Widowmaker. 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> translation key in order of appearance:
> 
> Spanish:  
> !Oye! ¿Puedes creer esto? - yo, or listen up  
> Dios - God  
> lo siento - I'm sorry  
> si senor - yes, sir  
> arana - spider  
> amor - love  
> mierde - shit  
> por favor - please  
> asi me gusta - that's how i like it  
> Escucha - listen  
> querida - dear  
> French:  
> si simple - so simple  
> N'hesitaz pas - don't hesitate  
> si jolie - so pretty  
> (mon) cherie - (my) sweetheart, (my) darling  
> degenere - degenerate  
> merde - shit  
> fais moi venir - make me come

**Author's Note:**

> I'm terribly sorry if there are any typos, I tried to rid them as best as I could.


End file.
